Payback
by tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Phoenix knows he's going to pay for that comment at the Space Center." Edgeworth gets even with Phoenix for teasing him.


Phoenix knows he's going to pay for that comment at the Space Center. It was worth it in the moment for the way Edgeworth's composure vanished, the shock in the prosecutor's eyes behind the cover of his glasses, the strangled protest before he realized he was being teased. Phoenix could see the epiphany settle in in the way the prosecutor's eyes narrow very slightly, outlined by the crisp edges to Edgeworth crossing his arms over his chest.

It's still _totally_ worth it.

Edgeworth makes him wait for the payback. That's part of the retribution itself, of course, keeping Phoenix on edge for the response they both know is inevitable, but if Phoenix didn't like it more than a little they wouldn't have started this is the first place, and certainly not maintained it over the years and the distance of an ocean. But enjoying the jittery anticipation doesn't make it any easier to actually _do_ anything, and as it turns out that means Phoenix's entire evening goes to waste while he paces through the Agency, idly destroying Pearl's work organizing while she huffs in his wake and puts everything back together. Finally Athena drags him to the couch, tells him not-so-quietly that he's making Apollo edgy, and while the two younger attorneys start to bicker companionably over who exactly is being made edgy Phoenix caves, opens up his phone and sends a text.

_Are you regressing to sulking because you lost? Not very mature, Edgeworth._

The response comes immediately, so fast that Miles must have had his phone open already when Phoenix's text came in. _You have no room to lecture me about maturity, Wright._

_So you are sulking._

_I simply determined you were likely to be celebrating your victory. Was I mistaken?_

_Celebration can take a lot of forms._

_All of which I'm certain you'll be investigating tonight. Hedonist._

_Get the fuck over here, Miles._

There's no response, which is a good sign. It's enough to calm Phoenix's nervous energy into the warmth of anticipation while he gets up from the couch and goes to hang up his suit jacket and roll his shirtsleeves up.

"Have fun," Apollo says without turning around from where Athena is enumerating the evidence that she, in fact, is more emotionally stable than the other attorney.

"What?" Phoenix is trying for casual but it comes out rather higher than he intends. "Fun? I was just…"

Apollo lifts his arm so the light catches off his bracelet, and Athena crosses her arms and stares at Phoenix levelly.

"You're still trying that? I thought you knew better. Besides, it's not like anyone doesn't know at this point."

Phoenix can feel himself go pale. "Knows what, what is there to know, haha, what are you talking about?"

"She means that Daddy and Prosecutor Edgeworth are boyfriends," Trucy says from her position on the floor amidst a layer of playing cards. "Can I call him Uncle Miles yet?"

There is a brief moment of loaded silence while Phoenix tries to fit this particular revelation into his thoughts and Pearl very calmly and very carefully sets down the bowl she has in her hands against the counter before turning around.

"You're _what_?"

"Ah," Athena says, and Apollo laughs.

"Not quite everyone, it would seem."

"Just because they're not as obvious as you and your blond rock god…"

Apollo chokes "My _what_?" and Pearl is starting to move across the floor towards Phoenix, and Trucy's attention has come up from her cards to track the progression of the suddenly-interesting conversation. The buzz of Phoenix's phone in his pocket is more of a relief than it has ever been before; he takes a huge stride over Trucy's cards, has his hand on the door handle before he's saying, "Ah, look at that, he's here, I'll be back!" and escapes into the hallway before he has heard more than the leading edge of Pearl's cry of protest. He doesn't wait for Edgeworth to come up the stairs, just takes them two at a time until he almost misses a step and decides that going down stairs so fast may be a bit reckless. He only glances at the text - _Here at your command _- before he hits the speeddial to call Edgeworth's phone without slowing his pace.

It only rings once before there's the click of the prosecutor picking up.

"Wright." He sounds formal, stoic and cool to someone who isn't familiar enough with him to catch the hint of amusement under the word.

"I screwed up," Phoenix says by way of greeting. "I think Pearls is going to kill me, can I come home with you?"

"I'm never opposed to you coming home with me but I rather think your posse will be concerned for your safety." There's an echo on the other end of the line, and as Phoenix rounds the last landing of the stairs he looks down to meet the prosecutor's gaze from where he's reclining against the door, still as fully dressed as he was in court. Phoenix slows his breakneck pace and Edgeworth clicks his phone shut as he goes on talking. "And I assume you have a party to attend."

"There's definitely some celebrating to be done," Phoenix agrees, following Edgeworth's lead as he clears the last step. "I have some very clear ideas on the subject, actually. This reliving my youth thing is really seizing my imagination."

One silver eyebrow goes up. "You are unintelligible as always."

Phoenix steps in, just missing hitting Edgeworth's shoes with his own. "I ran into an old rival today. You should know how that goes."

The prosecutor's expression doesn't flicker. "Enlighten me."

Phoenix reaches out to touch the lapels of Edgeworth's coat, slide his touch down to the buttons at the front. "You know the type. Long-term rivals with years of history, meeting again to face each other once more and determine once and for all who is superior." The buttons slide free and Phoenix leans in towards Edgeworth's mouth. "The unresolved sexual tension was _awful_."

"Unresolved?" Edgeworth says. This close it's more of a purr than a question, Phoenix can feel the prosecutor's smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Absolutely." Phoenix's fingers come up to Edgeworth's cravat, tug it down an inch so he can touch his fingers to the other's throat. "It's been a week, at least."

"It has been _five days_," Edgeworth corrects. "You are an insatiable sex fiend, Wright."

"It's not my fault," Phoenix protests. "My boyfriend has these awful glasses, you see, he really shouldn't be allowed to wear them ever. Or at least not at the same time he's wearing clothes."

Edgeworth actually laughs at that before his hands come up to land on Phoenix's shoulders. "You're getting ahead of yourself." His voice is doing the thing it does occasionally, when it drops into a lower register to hum through his throat until Phoenix imagines he can feel the vibration of the sound in the air. "We have to _talk_, Wright."

"We _are_ talking," Phoenix says, and leans in to kiss the corner of the prosecutor's mouth. That's his plan, at least, but Edgeworth turns his head so the motion misses and Phoenix catches his hair instead.

"No," he says. That tone _must_ be deliberate, Phoenix can feel it straight through Edgeworth's fingertips and it is _not_ helping his focus. "You're not getting anything until you apologize."

Phoenix briefly considers asking _apologize for what_, but for once common sense wins out over his desire to needle Edgeworth. "You're just proving my point."

Edgeworth goes still, Phoenix can feel his shoulders go stiff with irritation. "_What_?"

"You're resisting physical affection," Phoenix says, coming in to kiss against Edgeworth's neck since he can't get at the other man's mouth. "Not a great argument for your emotional range, Miles."

Phoenix is expecting a dramatic reaction, but even so the prosecutor moves faster than he expects. One breath he's licking against the top edge of Edgeworth's collar, letting his fingers creep in under the other man's jacket; then his shoulders hit the wall, the impact his first clue that he's been turned around, and there are fingers digging into his hips and lips on his and he is being _thoroughly_ kissed, lips and tongue and even the scrape of teeth blowing all coherency right out of his head. He forgets where he is, forgets who he's with, forgets himself for a minute; the whole world is heat and pressure, the tug at his shirt to free it from his waistband meshing with the purring growl against his mouth and the heat of the tongue against his one and the same with the warmth of the fingers shoving his shirt up to scrape along his spine. There's pressure across his back that flares into almost-hurt as the touch slides away, and after a moment Phoenix realizes that Edgeworth is _scratching_ him, leaving at least bruises and maybe blood in the wake of his fingernails. It barely hurts for the rush of sensation, and when the prosecutor's leg comes in between Phoenix's and grinds him back against the wall it's the _opposite_ of pain. Phoenix gasps in a breath, drops back against the support at his back, and when Edgeworth pulls back some hint of rationality comes back.

"_God_," Phoenix manages. "What did I do to get you like this? Cause I'd really like to do it again."

Edgeworth is flushed, his mouth redder than usual and lips parted so he can breathe, and from how close he's pressed Phoenix can feel that he's not the only one turned on, but the prosecutor still manages a modicum of his familiar raised eyebrow, some echo of the amused twist to his mouth.

"You compared me to a _robot_, Phoenix. Take it _back_," he growls, and that's not cold at _all_, that's made of so much heat Phoenix's whole body flashes warm in response.

"I take it back," he says instantly. That voice doesn't brook any tolerance for continued teasing.

Edgeworth's face relaxes, the twist softens into a satisfied smile. "Good."

When he steps back Phoenix can't quite restrain his groan at the loss, even though he _knows_ they really should pick this back up later and, ideally, not in the stairwell of his office building. That makes Edgeworth's smirk go wider even as he pulls his remarkably unruffled jacket back into place and does his buttons back up.

"We should go up and face the horde," he observes, reaching up to push his glasses up although they don't need it. "Before they start getting the right ideas about what I'm doing to you."

"What _you're_ doing?" Phoenix retorts. It takes him significantly longer to straighten his shirt, due primarily to the fact that he's stalling for time so he's not quite as ridiculously hard when they get back to the office. "I was at _least_ as complicit as you."

"Of course you were," Edgeworth says, with the tone of a parent humoring a child. "Shall we?" He heads up the stairs without waiting for a response, leaving Phoenix to huff and scramble in his wake. The attorney would be more irritated with this if Edgeworth didn't pause long enough to curl his fingers into Phoenix's, to murmur "My place tonight?" in that carrying purr, to duck his head and smile at Phoenix's answering grin. And after all, he can never stay irritated with Edgeworth for long.


End file.
